In Delirium, Drumknott
by Drummers
Summary: Lord Vetinari is delirious. Delirious men do strange things, Drumknott will find out... (Finished!)


**Notes:** A little something I got inspired to write… Thank you, Duchess of Inkling, for the beta-read.

Takes place somewhere during _Feet Of Clay_, so beware of spoilers. Songs to listen to while reading this: Riverdance's _Celtic Spirit_, Nightwish's _Wishmaster_ and Cockney Rebel's _Death Trip_. An illustration for this story can be found on my LJ (see my profile).

**Disc-claimer:** I don't own. You don't sue. We live happily ever after.

**In Delirium, Drumknott**

Somehow, the idea of The Patrician dying was very disconcerting, Rufus Drumknott mused to himself. He had thought it quite impossible; Lord Vetinari just wasn't the sort of man that simply went and died. Lord Vetinari was the sort of man that made others die for him.

And yet, he was now in his bed, suffering from the symptoms of arsenic poisoning. It had been quite scary, seeing the Patrician on the floor of his office, barely breathing, while Commander Vimes was screaming for his men, trying to get his lordship into some form of safety…

Drumknott hesitated in front of the door that led from the Patrician's office to the Patrician's bedroom, his hand hovering somewhere halfway to the wood. Would it be okay to check on his lordship? Would it be okay to deliver him some paperwork? Commander Vimes hadn't said anything about it, and if he had, not very particularly, and certainly not to Drumknott.

So he knocked on the door. There was no reply, and he knocked again. This time, an odd, faint sound was to be heard from the other side of the door.

Drumknott opened the door and cautiously stuck his head into the room. "My lord?" he said.

Lord Vetinari was on his bed, feverishly entangled in his black nightshirt, his dark grey blankets and his crisp white sheets. His right arm, which hung limply over the side of the bed, twitched and moved gently. The Patrician's face was slightly contorted, as if he was in some form of distress.

With his eyes large and his lips slightly parted with shock, Drumknott tip-toed to the side of his lordship's bed. His lordship's face looked as if it was made of wax, and through the fearfully thin skin around his eyes, blue veins were visible. His lips were dry and slightly split, and in some places looked as if he had worried them with his teeth.

In terrified and fascinated horror, Drumknott stood by the side of the bed, looking down on the recumbent figure of the most powerful man on the Disc.

Slowly, and keeping his eyes fixed on his Patrician's face, he moved his left hand upwards, and softly brushed it over his lordship's sweat covered forehead. Lord Vetinari moved, totally unexpectedly, and Drumknott hastily pulled back his hand.

The Patrician groaned. His eyes flickered, then opened, then fixed their unsteady and feverish gaze on Drumknott. The clerk gulped. His heart raced in his throat with sheer terror.

"My lord," he said, nearly dropping a curtsey.

"Drumknott," rasped Lord Vetinari. He pulled his right hand back onto the bed, then smiled slightly. "What can I do for you, my man?"

"Er, I was here to give you some paperwork to look at, my lord," said Drumknott. "But, er, you don't have to, you know. My lord," he added quickly.

The Patrician thoughtfully rubbed his chin as he leafed through the pile of paperwork Drumknott had given him. The clerk waited patiently until his master was finished.

"Hmm," said Lord Vetinari, languidly plucking the hair on his chin. "Not as terribly interesting as I'd hoped. Not nearly distracting enough."

Drumknott noted how, in the course of perhaps ten minutes, his lordship had gone from sleepy, to bright, to pensive, and now was in a mood the clerk couldn't really put his finger on.

"Drumknott," his lordship said, "Drumknott, Drumknott." It was as if he was rolling the name around in his mouth, trying to taste it.

"My lord?" Drumknott inquired.

"Indeed, your lord," said Lord Vetinari. He carelessly threw the pile of papers onto his bedside table. With a speed Drumknott hadn't imagined possible for the Patrician in his current position and state of health, his lordship grabbed the helpless clerk's arm and dragged him closer, so that he was now half seated on the bed.

With a jolt of horror and some other, unexpected sensation, Drumknott realised that the Patrician's nose was now only a few inches away from his own.

"Indeed, your lord," repeated his master. "Tell me, Rufus Drumknott, how far would you go for your Patrician? What are you willing to give? How much are you willing… to learn?"

In the small pause that followed, Drumknott was aware of how ragged his lordship's breath was, and how he himself had slung an arm over his master's frame, his hand resting on the bed next to him, in order to keep upright. He swallowed hard.

"I – I think I would die for you, my lord," he said, a little hesitantly. "I would be willing to… give everything I have, my lord," he went on, growing fiercer and speaking with more conviction with every word. "I'd be willing to learn everything you wished to teach me, my lord."

"Indeed," said Lord Vetinari, raising an eyebrow and tracing a delicately long finger over Drumknott's cheek. "_Die_ for me, would you?"

"Er, yes, my lord," said Drumknott, growing increasingly uncomfortable. His arm wasn't trained to keep his entire weight up; it was beginning to tremble already, and if it would give in, the clerk would land on his master, and he wasn't at all certain he would come away alive.

"Well, well," said his lordship. "Well, well, well. Indeed. _Die_ for me, dear heavens."

Another finger traced over Drumknott's cheek, this time over his right cheek, and he was suddenly aware of movement further along the bed. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw his lordship was slowly disentangling his legs from the folds of the blankets.

"Shall I teach you, then, Drumknott?" said the Patrician, firmly lodging his hands on either side of the clerk's face. "Shall I teach you a little of what I know?"

"Master, you are delirious!" Drumknott managed. "This is the influence the poison has on you!"

"Delirious, indeed, indeed," said his master, chuckling a little. "Won't you take advantage of that, then?"

Drumknott stared. His lordship's hair was messy, his eyes were bright but the pupils were rather large; and suddenly, Drumknott realised, with a shock as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over him, Lord Vetinari had wrapped his legs around the clerk's waist.

There was no escaping the delirious whims of his master; Drumknott was rather happy to admit this, and the cold water that had previously been trickling down his back suddenly went warm, and rather clammy. A lurking sense of being doomed to learn something he hadn't expected to be ever taught, certainly not by his lordship, had now been overtaken by an urgent sense of triumph, at having won a price he hadn't known he had been competing for.

Lord Vetinari's hands and the grip of his legs drew Drumknott inevitably forward, closer, ever closer, and the clerk closed his eyes right on the moment their lips touched. His lordship's lips were slightly parted, and Drumknott was startled by the lecherous tongue trying to pry the clerk's lips open. He consented, and was engulfed by lust.

There were moans, stifled, open, loud, throaty, and sighs, quite a lot of them. His lordship's nightdress was the most cooperative piece of clothing Drumknott had ever encountered; it kept having the urge of running up his master's legs, to reveal more of the pale frame than Drumknott had ever imagined there was. Of course, his lordship was giving it a hand by thrusting his hips upward, against Drumknott's sides and thighs. It made it more desirous than ever for Drumknott to undress.

The Patrician's hands were truly artist's hands. They had mastered arts Drumknott hadn't known existed, up till now. They travelled over bare skin, pinched, grabbed, stroked… The clerk writhed and squirmed to get more of those hands.

Through hazes of lust and confusion, Drumknott was aware of a mouth, a tongue, licking him, oh, _licking_ him… yes, licking, oh, my, _oh_, my lord, _my_ lord…!

When Drumknott had stopped shaking so much and had caught his breath a little again, his lordship had dug something up from under his bed. It was a small bottle, and looked completely unfamiliar to the clerk. The Patrician squirted something from the bottle on the tips of his fingers, and suddenly, there were only the fingers and his behind to Drumknott.

Prying was not the word for what the fingers were doing; they were claiming, exploring already bought land, as it were, and Drumknott, thrusting his hips upward a little, didn't care at all. Yes, he was his master's clerk, but his master was _his_ lordship.

The flexible fingers were soon replaced by something rather larger and warmer, and Drumknott squirmed again as the Patrician buried himself deep inside the head clerk.

Never, never before had Drumknott experienced something like this. It hurt, and yet it sent bolts of lightning up his spine and into his brain, making him just as delirious as Lord Vetinari.

The Patrician bent over Drumknott, and moved, _moved_, thrusting, and breathing into Drumknott's ear.

"R-rufus, Rufussss, Rrrrufusss…"

The combination of the delirium, the purr and the hiss send Drumknott over the edge again. Just as his spasms were dying down again, his lordship came. The clerk could just make out one word, whispered very quietly, barely intelligible, as the Patrician exhaustedly slumped over him.

"Ssamm…"

With a weight on his heart, realising he had learned more than he had bargained for, Drumknott waited until his master's breath had steadied and his eyes, behind the closed lids, were moving slightly. He carefully disentangled himself from his lordship, dressed the man up, put on his own clothes again, and quietly left.

In the hallway, he encountered Commander Vimes.

"How is he?" enquired the Commander growling, not willing to show his actual concern.

"He is asleep," said Drumknott coolly. "I don't think he wishes to see you at all, on the moment."

"It's not as if _I_ wished to see _him_," huffed the Commander. "I was just wondering. I'll be off for the night, then, I wouldn't want him to detain me."

Perhaps it _is_ possible to share a man as magnificently haunting as his lordship, Drumknott thought, as the Commander stomped down the corridor. He shook the idea off himself. _No, not for the moment._


End file.
